Talisman
by Laura W
Summary: Janeway has been injured on an away mission, and Chakotay mistakenly blames himself for the accident. Just a nice, neat little story that all takes place inside Chakotay's big square head. JC angst.


**TALISMAN**

_September/October 1995 _

_I love this story. Janeway has been injured on an away mission, and Chakotay mistakenly blames himself for the accident. Just a nice, neat little story that all takes place inside Chakotay's big square head._

**TALISMAN  
by Laura Williams**

It was a talisman.

He knew that. It was a touchstone, something sacred to her, no different from his medicine bundle. As such, he should have understood. He should have been sympathetic and let her have it and hold it, it was just a picture, a smiling gray-haired man and a panting dog in a simple silver frame. Just a reminder of that before life that was so far away now. Just a talisman.

He'd seen it in her hands a dozen times, watched her caress the dog's dusty head or the man's smiling lips with her gentle fingers, watched her close her eyes and go from him to a place where she could hear the dog's bark and the man's laughter. Her face would change, her whole being relax for an instant, and he would glimpse a freedom and ease in her that he never saw at other times, not on the bridge, not in the mess hall, not with him. But then she would stiffen again, perhaps sensing his eyes on her, and replace the picture on the table. By the time she turned back to him, the ease was always gone, leaving him to wonder who she was in that other place, and why that other self had to be left so far behind. Why she couldn't join him from time to time, even for a moment.

Sometimes when she sat beside him on the couch he would catch her staring at it, and move his body a little to hide it from her eyes. Sometimes he stared at it himself while she paced and deliberated in her Ready Room. With a little effort he could will himself into the scene, somewhere just outside the frame, watching them. They were talking about dogs and books and science, laughing together with the ease of long familiarity. She kissed him; the man turned his face to her with an enraptured expression, captivated by her grace, blissfully entangled in her soft hair falling around him. She moved away from him to take the picture. He protested at first, but she eluded his grasp. "Someday when I'm far away," she said, "I'll need something of you to remind me." The man chuckled softly. "I'll never let you get that far away from me, Kath." But he took the dog by the collar and smiled for her anyway.

He imagined other scenarios, of course. Family gatherings -- her parents, of whom he knew almost nothing, his brothers and sisters, children, dogs. They managed to find a moment away from the others; she snapped the picture just as his nephew was about to descend on them both. Or alone in her backyard, an evening in late summer, the sounds of insects and birds and children playing nearby. Or a picnic in Golden Gate Park, just days before she was due to depart from Deep Space Nine, an afternoon away from admirals and briefings and talk of dangerous Maquis renegades. She turned suddenly, as if sensing someone there, and he remembered himself, always standing on the fringe of the gathering or backyard or picnic, somewhere unseen, watching them. He wanted to take a step forward, to call out to her, but the shadows pulled him back and forced him to take cover behind a tree. Always hiding, always one step or one word or one touch away from her.

Here, so far away from everything and everyone either of them had ever known, it should have been easy. He should have been able to step out of that shadow and reveal himself to her, and she should have been standing in the light, waiting for him. But the picture, the touchstone. It held her in its grasp, too, and forced her into a shadow as well, somewhere just beyond his reach.

He tossed aside the data padd she had sent him to find. A tiny hesitation, then he picked up the picture. He wanted to hide it away. Push it into a shadow and take its place in the light, feel the warmth of that quiet, secret smile. Take away her touchstone and make her see the life she could have, if only she would allow herself.

But he knew he could never steal something sacred, not from her, not from anyone.

With a sinking heart he brushed his sleeve across the frame, wiping away the trace of his presence from its shiny surface, and replaced the picture on the table. He retrieved the data padd and turned away without looking back. She was somewhere nearby, close, he could feel her. He left the room and crossed the bridge, the image of the smiling man and panting dog still hovering at the edge of his vision. Angrily, he shoved the image away.

It was just a talisman.

* * *

"There was nothing you could have done."

He'd heard it dozens of times in the last twelve hours. Over one hundred fifty beings on the ship, and he suspected he'd heard it from at least half of them. There were variations, of course: "Don't blame yourself, Commander." "It wasn't your fault, Commander." "We'd have done the same, Commander." He knew the words were meant to ease his guilt, but he found no comfort in professing helplessness. No honor. Maybe he really couldn't have done anything, maybe it really was just a terrible accident, but he couldn't help but feel he'd made a horrible mistake.

Once the crisis had passed he put Tuvok in charge and took himself off the duty roster. And so he sat all night in the dimmed sickbay, hovering by her bedside, replaying the events of the day in his mind.

A quiet morning on the bridge. They'd talked of home, a long discussion about the rising suns and changing seasons they'd all missed, favorite songs, families. He'd told her about his sister's sons and how he worried about them. They were his responsibility, after all -- in his tribe's traditions the mother's brother was given the honor of educating the boys into manhood. She'd leaned over and patted his arm. "Don't worry, Commander. I'll get you home to them." He'd forced a smile, torn between longing for his family and fear that the day they arrived in the Alpha Quadrant would be the last day he'd ever see her.

At noon the conversation turned to food. She'd spoken of pecan pie and coffee and fresh bread. He'd told her about orange juice, about climbing the trees when he was a boy and picking the sweetest oranges from the high branches, about squeezing them himself and starting the day with sticky hands that smelled of summer. She had laughed at him -- "I never knew you were such a poet, Chakotay." He gave a lopsided smile when her eyes lingered on him.

Then the planet, Neelix's assurances that a wealth of mineral deposits were there for the taking, in caverns beneath the planet's rocky surface. A preliminary scan, and they found a suitable deposit with access from the surface. Chakotay rose, assuming he would be assigned to head up the Away Team. He looked back when she spoke his name again, this time with a hint of surprise.

"Going somewhere, Chakotay?"

"I was going to meet the Away Team in the Transporter Room."

She smiled. "I think I'd like to lead this team, if you don't mind, Commander."

"Of course not. But are you sure it's safe?"

"Safe enough. But just in case, I'll take B'Elanna with me." She cocked her head at him, her eyes full of warmth and humor. "Is that all right with you?"

He hesitated, irrationally afraid to let her go into the caverns, then nodded. "I suppose so."

"I'm glad I have your permission."

He smiled. "Just be home by dinner, or I'll send Tuvok after you."

He'd watched her spring from the Bridge, a handful of quick, businesslike steps, and disappear from his sight.

The next few hours went slowly -- loads of minerals beamed to the cargo bays, Harry coordinating the storage from above while Janeway and Torres supervised the digging below. Her voice on the comm system described the caverns while he sat alone in her Ready Room and listened.

"It's beautiful, Commander. The caves are a little damp, but cool and quiet. I've seen lots of insects, and something that looked like a salamander. But its skin was almost transparent, and it had yellow spots like flowers painted on its back."

He smiled, knowing she couldn't see him, wishing somehow she could. "I never knew you were such a poet, Captain."

She laughed. "I must have learned it from you, Commander. You and your hands that smell of summer..."

"How is the digging coming?"

"Slowly but surely. We can only cut through a few centimeters of rock at a time since we're working at a ninety degree angle to the mineral's natural cleavage plane."

"Uh..."

He could almost hear her smirk. "We're going against the grain, in other words."

"Isn't that counterproductive?"

"B'Elanna assures me it's the safest way to go, and who am I to argue with the finest Starfleet engineer in the Delta Quadrant?"

There was a distant laugh -- B'Elanna's -- then the sound of a cutting tool being started again. "When do you think you'll be finished?"

"Another hour, maybe two. You might have to have dinner without me."

"I'll tell Neelix to keep something hot for you."

"Better yet, don't tell him. Gives me an excuse to use up some replicator rations on... Just a minute, Commander."

A moment of silence, then a man's voice -- Ayala's -- calling a warning. "Captain, Lieutenant! Take cover!"

Rumbling, a sudden shout, her voice. "Cave-in, Chakotay! Beam us--" The sound of falling rock, a faint click as the comm signal went dead.

He burst out onto the Bridge, already shouting orders. "Harry, get to the Transporter Room and get a lock on the Away Team. Tuvok, see if you can boost the transporter signal -- route it through whatuver systems you have to, but I want them back now!" He slapped his comm badge. "Kes, activate the EMH program and get to the Transporter Room. There's been an accident with the Away Team and there are going to be injuries."

Seconds of horrible waiting, then Kim's voice. "I got one positive lock, Commander, but all I got back was a comm badge."

"Are you reading any life signs?"

"Too many layers of rock."

"Tuvok?"

The Vulcan looked up with a deep frown. "I have boosted both the primary sensor array and the transporter signal, Commander. However, I am scanning only several meters of solid rock."

Chakotay clenched his fists at his sides. "Harry, can you get me down to the surface near the comm signal we had before?"

"Aye, Commander."

He bolted from the Bridge. "Paris, you have the Bridge. Tuvok, you're with me."

Kes joined them in the Transporter Room.

They materialized before the dust had finished settling around the mouth of the cave. Chakotay did not hesitate. He made for the opening at a dead run, Tuvok and Kes close at his heels. "Stay back!" he shouted.

Kes protested. "But Commander, the Captain -- "

"I know. I'm going in after her -- after the team."

Tuvok caught him by the arm. "Commander, there may be another cave-in."

"Dammit, Tuvok! Don't you think I know that?" He tore his arm away from the Vulcan's grasp and entered the mouth of the cave.

Cool and damp, dark. Small pebbles still falling along the walls. He flicked on his light and surveyed the scene. Craggy outcroppings of gray-green rock highlighted by patches of the silvery mineral, piles of newly fallen boulders, the tiny, crushed body of a salamander with yellow spots like flowers painted on its back. Movement. "Captain? Captain!" No answer. He took a slow step toward the motion, mindful of the unsettled rock around him. "Kathryn!"

"Chakotay?" A cough, and B'Elanna stepped over a boulder, Ayala leaning on her shoulder.

"B'Elanna!" He scrambled to her and took up Ayala's support. "What happened?"

"We thought we were cutting against the plane, but the rock doesn't cleave evenly. We opened up a fault we didn't know was there." She coughed, squinted when they emerged into the sunlight. They released Ayala into Kes's care; in a matter of seconds he was on his way to Sickbay.

B'Elanna rubbed blood away from her cheek. "Hargrove and Kyoto are still trapped in there, Chakotay."

He forced himself to remain calm. "What about the Captain?"

"I don't know." B'Elanna looked up at him with a sympathetic expression. "She was right under the fault when it happened..."

He clenched his jaw tight and headed back into the cave.

Kyoto and Hargrove were together, huddled unconscious under an outcropping of rock. He fixed his comm badge to Hargrove's uniform and activated it; they de-materialized and he moved on.

Cursed himself for letting her go. Mineralogy was far from his strong suit, but he was the more experienced spelunker, he might have seen the signs of a cave-in and been able to get them to safety before it was too late. And if he hadn't, at least he would be the one buried alive under kilos of rock, not her. She would be safe, she probably wouldn't even have come to look for him like this.

He made his way gingerly through the debris, calling her rank first, then her name, not waiting for an answer. Somehow he knew there would not be a response.

He saw the comm badge the instant before he stepped on it, half-buried in the fine gray-green dust. He picked it up and activated it. "Tuvok?"

"Tuvok here, Commander."

"I found her comm badge. She must be here somewhere..."

He dug slowly through the rubble, squinting his eyes against the dusty shadows. Kilo after kilo of rock, then a cheek, a shoulder, an arm. A hand he grasped hard, unable to make himself feel for a pulse. The pile of rock was too great, there was no way she could have survived, but for this moment he could hope, could pretend there was a possibility she would live to sit beside him at dinner later...

The hand closed around his in a faint clasp, feeble but unmistakable.

A long moment before he trusted himself to speak. "I found her, Tuvok. She's alive, but I have to get her to Sickbay right now..."

Hours of surgery. He left Tuvok in charge and spent the time in the Doctor's office, eyes fastened on her pale, broken features, his face pressed hard against the window.

The Doctor's briefing was a distant blur. Lacerations, impact injuries, compound fractures, internal hemorrhaging -- he let the words wash over him, barely touching his consciousness, staring down at her pale face. "When will she wake up?"

The Doctor frowned. "Have you been listening to me, Commander?"

Kes stepped between them. "We're all a little tired. The Doctor and I will take care of her, Commander. Why don't you go and get some sleep?"

He shook his head. "I'll stay here."

Kes frowned, then nodded. "I'll bring you something to eat later, if you'll promise to sit down and rest here."

"I will."

She paused in the doorway and looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. He manufactured a half-hearted smile somehow and pulled up a chair beside the bed, lowered himself into it with a tired sigh. "See? I'm resting."

"I'll be back soon," She cocked her head at him. "The Doctor will do everything he can, Commander."

"I know."

"She's going to be all right."

"I just want to stay here with her for a while."

Kes hesitated for an instant, peering curiously into his eyes. He'd seen that look on her face before when she was reading someone, sharing their emotions for a moment. He tried to look away -- hide it from her, don't let anyone know, keep it a secret. But she knew, he could see it in the surprise on her face and the empathy in her eyes. Before he could stop her with a word or a gesture she crossed the room to him, stood behind his chair and placed her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to the top of his head. She said nothing. He was grateful for her silence; words of reassurance would have been meaningless. She held him tight for an instant, almost rocking him like a child, then bolted from the room without a backward glance.

The contact was brief, less than ten seconds, but it was enough to establish a connection that he missed when it was gone. Because he was suddenly alone for the first time since the accident, alone with the unconscious woman whose injuries he felt he had caused. He panicked; he could not stay in the room listening to himself think, unable to escape from his own grief, for long. But he couldn't leave either, couldn't flee from the room and the body and the emotions that whirled through his head. His sense of responsibility compelled him to stay close by her side. His sense of responsibility and something more, something powerful and frightening that he could not allow himself to think about, not now, not yet. Maybe not ever.

He toyed with the idea of turning the HoloDoc back on, just to hear the sound of another voice in the room, but decided against it -- he was in no mood for sarcasm. He missed the friendly hum of voices he might have enjoyed in the mess hall or Sandrine's, the quiet laughter and whispered conversations. He missed her voice, teasing him about his poetic nature and his brooding silences, goading him into shy smiles and hidden laughter -- shared moments when he could almost believe she genuinely cared for him, and not just because circumstances had forced them together. Each of those moments came to him with perfect clarity, times when the Captain had stepped aside for the briefest of instants and allowed Kathryn to surface. They were few and rare, and so he cherished each one, holding them close to his heart where he could reach them and touch them when he needed something to cling to. But still he knew that was not all, that there was an even more relaxed and playful side to her that he had rarely been allowed to see.

He glanced down at her face, shocking white in the darkened room, her skin frighteningly pale, almost transparent, mottled with yellow-green bruises. He could not pretend she was only asleep and that he could wake her with a touch. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her face was lined with exhaustion. The thought that he had caused her pain crushed his heart, threatening his control. Alone with her in the Sickbay, he allowed the stress of the last few hours, the fear and grief and all the other emotions he had suppressed, to take him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the bed near her shoulder, his eyes closed tight. "I'm sorry, Kathryn," he whispered. "I'm so sorry..."

He heard the outer door open and the soft footsteps that crossed the room to his side, but he ignored them. It would only be Kes, he reasoned, or B'Elanna, and he knew he could not hide from either of them much longer. But the clink of a plate against a glass and a muffled, masculine curse forced him to look up. He dragged his sleeve across his eyes, wiping away the trace of his grief. "What do you want, Neelix?" he growled.

The Talaxian smiled down at him, pretending not to notice his gruffness. "Kes said you might be hungry, Commander." He uncovered a bowl and offered it with a flourish. "Mushroom soup? The real thing this time, no leola root, no schplict bacteria, nothing that didn't come straight from the Alpha Quadrant."

Chakotay reached for the bowl and spoon eagerly. "How did you do this?"

Neelix shrugged. "Replicator."

"You used my replicator rations without asking?"

"No..."

"Then how -- "

"Let's just say the rations were a gift."

"From who?"

Neelix shook a finger at him. "You know I can't tell you that, Commander. It would violate the crew/Morale Officer confidence."

Chakotay held the bowl in both hands, letting the warmth seep through his skin, down his fingers, up his arms. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, smelling the cream and the mushrooms and some unidentifiable spice that made his mouth water. "Thank you, Neelix," he said. "And thank whoever donated the rations for me."

"I already have."

He ate silently, grateful for the distraction, while Neelix pulled up a chair and sat beside him. "How is she?"

Chakotay licked his lips. "Weak. She was in surgery for almost seven hours. The Doctor says she was very lucky to have survived."

"Lucky that you got to her so quickly, Commander."

"Maybe. But I shouldn't have let her go at all. If I had gone instead, she wouldn't have gotten hurt..." He heard the childlike quality of his own voice, the unreasonable fear and lost, abandoned hopelessness, and shook his head. "This is all my fault."

The Talaxian peered down at her face for a long moment. He reached out his hand and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek and Chakotay drew in a sharp breath at the gesture. Neelix turned to look at him with knowing eyes. He let out a soft breath, almost a sigh. "It isn't easy, is it, Commander?" he asked.

Chakotay did not look up, pulled his face into an impassive mask.. "What isn't?"

Neelix nodded toward her unconscious form. "Feeling helpless like this. Feeling like you're going to lose someone you...you care about, and there's nothing you can do to stop it." He shook his head slowly. "It isn't easy."

Chakotay sat still and silent, staring down into the half-empty bowl, his chest slowly tightening.

"It might make you wonder if it's really worth all the trouble of caring, if you feel this bad when she's angry with you, or in danger, or hurt," Neelix continued. He sat back and faced Chakotay with a small, speculative smile. "You know, though, a friend once told me that when we care about someone, it makes us very vulnerable," he said, his head cocked to one side, his voice subdued and almost gentle. "But that what you get when you care about someone is greater than what you risk. A wise observation, don't you think?"

Chakotay stared, recognizing his own words from a long time ago. They echoed oddly in his ears; he heard, too, the words Neelix had carefully left unspoken, about fear and jealousy and love. He sucked in a slow breath. "Maybe..." he breathed. "I'm not sure anymore."

Neelix placed a hand on his arm. "What you get back is greater than what you risk, Chakotay. Always." He pulled his hand away and sat back. "She'll be all right, Commander. The Doctor and Kes will take good care of her. Don't worry."

Chakotay turned the words over and over in his mind while Neelix rose and began to clear away the dishes. "I'm sure you're helping her just by being here, Commander," Neelix continued. He replaced the bowl and spoon on the tray, carefully reararranging them, his back turned to Chakotay. "Whenever I've been injured, just knowing my beloved Kes was here beside me made me feel more alive. Her love gave me the strength I needed to recover."

Chakotay looked up at him, his eyes narrowed. "But it isn't the same with the Captain and me."

Neelix turned to face him. "No," he said. "No, I suppose it isn't." He smiled. "But she knows you're here, Commander. I'm sure of it."

"The Doctor said she wasn't aware of anything around her."

Neelix shook his head. "She knows, Commander. Don't ever doubt that." He gathered up the tray and the dishes and turned to leave the room. In the doorway he stopped suddenly. "Oh! I almost forgot. Lieutenant Torres asked me to bring this to you." He reached into his pocket and drew out a flat, gray-green stone. "This is some of the rock we brought up with the mineral deposits. We have several kilos of it. She thought it might be suitable material for carving, if you want a few kilos for yourself." He offered the stone. "Well, good night, Commander. Try to get some rest."

"I will. Thank you, Neelix."

A flash of light from the corridor entered the room as the Talaxian left. In the momentary glow Chakotay could see the flecks of silvery mineral embedded in the stone he held in the palm of his hand. He did not allow his fingers to close around it. He fought off the urge to throw it instead, to hurl away the cause of her injuries and his grief. B'Elanna should have known what the stone would represent to him, she should never have given it to Neelix and sent it to him. He should remove it from their presence, from her lost spirit and his tormented eyes. Conceal it, mask it somehow, hide it away before it destroyed them both.

He closed his fist around the stone, intending to cross the room and deposit it in the waste slot. But she stirred restlessly, and so instead he slid to his knees beside her bed. "Captain?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?" She did not turn toward the sound of his voice, or give any indication of awareness. "Kathryn?" She let out a soft moan, so feeble it left him weak with helplessness.

He bent forward, his face hovering near hers, almost touching. "I wish I could do something for you," he whispered. "I want to perform the medicine wheel ritual, but I don't want to leave you to go to my quarters. And I don't even think you believe in it..."

She rolled her head weakly against the pillow, then lay quietly again. "Kathryn?"

Her sudden stillness alarmed him. He took her hand gently in his, the stone, momentarily forgotten, pressed between their palms. It grew warm with the heat of both their bodies and he imagined some of his energy flowing through it and into her, replacing the strength she had lost in the accident. He tried to think of healing words but they would not come, and so he said nothing, hoping that the prayer of his silence would be enough to reach her spirit. He closed his fingers around hers and held tight for a long moment, mindful of her terrible injuries, afraid to let go just the same. He did not breathe.

Minutes passed. He did not know how long he knelt by her side, the stone and her hand held tightly in his fist, but a blanket of fatigue had somehow settled over him. His head felt heavy; he could barely find the strength to raise it from the mattress and peer down into her face, peaceful now, calm and at rest. Asleep.

His head fell to her shoulder, weighted down now with relief. He slid his hand from hers regretfully, pausing to curl her fingers around the warm stone. With a low moan he raised himself into his chair, every muscle and sinew in his body protesting the slow deliberateness of the movement. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, hours later, the Doctor was hovering at her side. She was awake; she turned to him and smiled weakly. "I'm all right," she whispered. "Go get some sleep."

A hand gripped his upper arm, a small but firm tug guided him to his feet. Kes's voice came to him as if from a deep cavern. "I'll walk you to your quarters, Commander."

He was in his bed when he remembered her fingers, slowly regaining their color, still folded tightly around the stone.

* * *

He crossed to her desk eagerly, profoundly grateful for the sight of her smiling face looking back at him. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

She rose slowly, showing a lingering stiffness from her injuries. He moved to assist her, but she waved him off and shook her head. "I'm not falling apart, Commander," she said, her voice full of the warmth and humor he had missed.

"I never thought you were, Captain."

She gave him a disbelieving smirk, but let the subject drop. "I still owe you a dinner. Care to collect it this evening?"

"Thank you, Captain. I would enjoy that."

She crossed the room slowly, paused near him. "The Doctor says I should stay away from anything spicy for a few more days, at least until the nausea passes."

"Nausea?"

"From the head injuries." She grinned up at him. "It gives me an excuse to use some replicator rations on something frivolous -- fresh bread, I think, and maybe pecan pie. And orange juice."

He could not stop the elation from spreading across his face. "Sounds delicious. I'm sorry you're not feeling well, but at least it keeps you safe from Neelix's cooking."

"Keeps me safe..." she mused, glancing at his expression. "Can I ask you a question, Commander?"

"Of course." He swallowed hard, unable to fathom where the conversation might lead, preparing himself for whatever she might ask.

"Did you stay with me all night the night I was injured?"

He took a deep breath. "Yes, I did."

She nodded slowly. "I thought you did. Somehow I knew you were there..."

"You did?"

"I'm not sure how, but I knew." She smiled at him. "Maybe spending so much time with Kes has rubbed off on me."

"Maybe."

She cocked her head to one side. "Why did you stay?"

His smile faded suddenly. He could not meet her eyes, and so he looked out at the stars. But he did not see them; instead he saw her cheek in his mind, white against the gray-green rock, buried alive. "I felt...responsible for what happened to you," he said slowly. "I had to stay to make sure you were all right."

"It was my decision to go, not yours."

"I know."

He heard the smile in her voice. "You're not going to start questioning my every order, are you? If you try to keep me from facing danger on every mission, it's going to be a very boring seventy-five years, Commander."

He let himself smile down at her. "I'll try to contain my protective impulses from now on, Captain."

"See that you do." She held out her hand to him. "By the way, do you know where this came from? I had it when I woke up, and I don't remember picking up any rocks before the accident."

He stared down at her open palm, at the gray-green stone, flecked with a silvery mineral, resting on it. "It's from the planet," he said. "I...I gave it to you while you were unconscious. I put it in your hand."

She turned away from him, her fingers moving gently over the stone's smooth surface. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Not at all."

"Thank you..." Her body relaxed for an instant and she turned back to him with an easy smile, her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes bright. "Don't forget about dinner later."

"I won't."

"You have the Bridge, Commander."

He grinned down at her. "Aye-aye, Captain." Reluctantly he moved to leave the room, but he glanced back at her the instant before the door closed her off from him. She stood near the windows, very still, staring down at the stone in the palm of her hand. She clutched it in her fingers, her eyes closed tight, a wistful expression crossing her features. She raised her head and turned to the shelf behind her, to the smiling gray-haired man and the panting dog in the silver frame. An unnamed pain arched through his chest when she reached out to the picture; he thought she would touch it with her gentle fingers, caress the man's lips and the dog's dusty head. But instead she opened her hand and placed the stone beside it, not touching, resting near where she could reach out for it and take it in her hand when she needed it.

He turned away from the closing door with a tiny smile. He seized upon the image before it faded from his mind, gathering it close to his heart where he could return to it again and again, the vision of her standing near the windows, relaxed, at ease, the stone gripped tightly in her hand.

It was a talisman.

END


End file.
